


Long Miles

by Ellegy42



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Alex is unhappy, Gen, Whump, especially if the bank is a spy organization, who gives a bank custody of a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellegy42/pseuds/Ellegy42
Summary: A slightly older, harder Alex goes to Brecon Beacons. Things aren't okay (but they could be, eventually).
Relationships: Alex Rider & Wolf, K-Unit & Alex Rider
Comments: 12
Kudos: 177





	Long Miles

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this is fairly obvious, I think.

_Start_

Alex- Cub, here- wasn’t particularly pleased when Blunt dumped him in the ass-end of the Brecon Beacons with a bunch of soldiers. Admittedly, he’d asked for training, had even begged once or twice.

“Some training,” he mutters to himself in the mess one night, two weeks after arriving at camp. It doesn’t feel like training. It feels like he’s just been getting his arse kicked for no reason.

(That’s wrong, though, this is a time to practice everything he knows for as long as he can without the threat of death at every corner. And while they don’t teach him all the things he needs to know to survive, they teach him _some_ things he’ll need to survive.)

He does the ropes course and the morning runs, and the afternoon runs, and a few covert operations lectures, but he doesn’t get the firearms training because he’s _underage_. Fat lot of difference that makes, when he’s apparently old enough to be sent out on ~~suicide~~ top-secret missions every other week that… somehow don’t have _any_ _trained personel_ assigned to them. The fighting tends to consist of going up against larger, stronger, faster men who have too many advantages for even his black belt to compete against. That’s good, at least. It’s closer to reality than almost anything else here is.

(He knows what they’re doing, training him in all the wrong things for the missions they send him on. He also knows that he can’t do anything about it, not as long as they have Jack.)

He grabs his tray and sits on the edge of the table by K-unit- close enough to suit the higher ups- nobody wants questions about why he avoids the rest of the unit like the plague- but far enough that he doesn’t end up a target.

…

_We wear the mask that grins and lies_

“Who the hell are you?” Wolf growls at the child in front of him. He’s supposed to be getting a new member for his unit today, not some kid who should be off in a school somewhere.

“Cub, Sir,” The boy says, one arm held up in a salute. Wolf is a little bit surprised he knows how to do it properly, but doesn’t let it show on his face.

“ _Cub?”_ Wolf snarls- this is such bullshit- this is the SAS, not a day camp. “Why the hell are you here, _Cub?_ ”

The boy’s face doesn’t even twitch, nor does he relax his arm. Wolf hasn’t saluted him back, after all. The boy’s voice is just as professional as any other member of the SAS when he answers, “I was ordered to report here, Sir.”

It’s not an answer, and they both know it.

“You’re on KP for two nights. This isn’t a daycare, kid, and I don’t appreciate the superiors acting like it’s one. You’ll go along with our schedule, you’ll do what I say when I say it, and if I hear one word of complaint? You’re out on your ass. Got that?”

Maybe, if he can make this kid’s life hellish enough, he’ll go home. War is no place for children.

“Sir!” The boy- Cub- barks in affirmation.

Wolf seethes for the rest of the day, but when he goes to the Sergeant to ask what the hell is going on, the man just tells him to obey orders and get the hell out.

_And mouth with myriad subtleties_

Cub’s surprisingly tough, Eagle thinks, watching the kid from the corner of his eye as he chews. The kid hasn’t been able to move as much weight, nor quite as fast as the rest of them (he’s barely even half their size), but he’s still doing damn well for a kid thrown in with professionals.

His mouth thins. It’s disturbing.

The boy shouldn’t be here at all. Whoever it was that decided a child should be here- and there’s no pretending that this boy is even close to legal- should be put up on charges. There’s nothing for it, though, so Eagle mostly just ignores him.

The kid never complains, oddly enough.

Even when they’ve been on a 20km run after a long, shitty day, the kid’s right there puffing along with that terribly blank face of his. It’s chilling- in the three days he’s been here, the most expression Eagle’s ever seen on the kid is when he thinks there’s no one watching: on the course one day while he was doubled over, he’d shot a glare at the rest of the unit; at lunch yesterday, he’d looked oddly forlorn.

That’s not true, actually. The _most_ expression he’d seen on the kid was when Eagle’d woken up in the middle of the night and glanced over because the kid had made some sound or another, just enough to attract attention from someone who was already awake. The sheer terror on the kid’s face was more emotion than he’d seen in the boy since he’d arrived.

It was less than encouraging.

_And why should the world be over-wise_

“Kid’s fucking creepy.”

“He’s not _creepy_ , Wolf, he’s just…” Snake flounders, at a loss for words. Fox gets it- there’s not a lot to be said about their team’s fifth member.

“Creepy?” Eagle suggests, and Snake sighs.

“Look, it’s not like we’ve exactly made an effort to get to know him, you know?” Fox isn’t really sure why Snake’s trying so hard to get the rest of them to warm up to the kid, honestly.

“There’s no point though, is there?” He says, throwing another note on the table. “Kid’s only here until the end of selection, then we never see him again. They shouldn’t have us training with him at all.”

Snake seems to want to say something to that, but gives up and just sighs, instead. “It just feels like there’s more to it than what we’ve got.”

Wolf snorts bitterly. “Right. Kid probably told his rich daddy he wants to be in the army when he’s all grown up and the guy sic’d him on us.”

Quiet footsteps sound on the porch, and then the kid pushes his way into their little cabin. He’s got less energy tonight than usual, and no wonder- he’s just coming back from Wolf’s ordered KP duty for the third night in a row.

“Hey Double-O Nothing, why’re you really here?” Wolf calls out, “Your rich daddy send you here? Give you the fast-track to the big boys’ camp?”

The kid’s mask slips, for the first time that Fox has seen. The look of sheer hatred on the boy’s face nearly makes him blanch, and then it’s gone as fast as it came, smoothed back over into a mostly-blank mask with just a hint of that anger when he speaks.

“ _Yeah_ ,” The kid sneers, “Because several weeks in purgatory is a great birthday present, right?”

“Easy to see why your parents wanted to get rid of you,” Wolf snaps back. “Another two nights’ KP.”

The kid gives them a look that’s so blank, chills run up and down Fox’s spine.

Fox silently notes that the kid didn’t say “Hell.”

_This debt we pay to human guile_

Eagle, contrary to popular belief, does not sleep like a log. At least, not always. Not on bad nights, in the middle of the night when he has too much to think about. He does better in the later hours, the ones that lean towards morning and his units’ breathing patterns have shifted into those of deeper sleep.

That’s when he listens to them, to Fox’s snoring, and usually falls asleep once he finally forces his mind to quiet down.

Right now, he’s hovering between the border of consciousness and sleep when he hears a sharp movement and a change in one of the patterns- Cub; he knows his unit-mates’ breathing too well to mistake it for one of them.

Cub lays still for a moment before there is a long, quiet exhale and the child pushes himself upright, muttering softly into the darkness. He doesn’t sound pleased. Eagle listens as he pads out of the cabin and sits heavily outside.

Huh.

He wouldn’t have thought Cub would want to do anything but go back to sleep.

The sound of muttering, just on the edge of hearing, perks his ears a bit and Eagle hesitates. Should he-?

He rises from his bed with a quiet creak of the springs, moves closer to the door.

“-safe here. I’m safe here. This is an SAS camp; I’m safe here.” Cub keeps muttering, curled in on himself on the porch of the little cabin, and Eagle hesitates. It’s not his place to comfort the kid. He hasn’t even been decent; his presence would be unwelcome here and now.

Whatever shit Cub is going through, to feel insecure even surrounded by dozens of the UK’s best soldiers, it isn’t something Eagle’s got the skills to deal with.

(He won’t be telling the others, though. That’s not his business, and it feels like a kindness, though Eagle isn’t entirely sure who it’s a kindness _for_. He might just be a coward in matters of the heart.)

_Beneath our feet, and long the mile_

_Thump._

_Thump._

Breathe.

_Thump._

Breathe.

 _Thump_.

Gasp.

 _Thud_.

Gasp.

 _Thud_.

Choke.

Alex doubles over and vomits out his meager breakfast, narrowly missing his shoes. It tastes even worse coming back up than it had going down. He smiles bitterly and forces himself to straighten, but not quickly enough.

“Hurry it up, Cub!” Wolf barks from half a dozen yards away- he’s clearly come back to yell at Alex. “You want to be in the big leagues, you’ve got to keep up!”

Alex bites down the snarl that wants to escape- he _doesn’t_ want to be in the big leagues, doesn’t want to be in the SAS or the SIS or the military at _all_ \- but that would only get him chewed out worse and he doesn’t have the energy to deal with whatever punishment Wolf comes up with this time. He’s getting little enough sleep as it is, and it isn’t like he’d arrived here in the greatest shape. Blunt hadn’t even given him a week to recover from his last mission.

He’s gotten distracted, hasn’t he?

He forces his thoughts to the present- to the slick mud and the cold, dry air that makes him want to cough- and straightens.

_Thud._

He won’t give in to Wolf’s snide comments or the cold looks from the other members of ‘his’ unit. He’s got miles to go on this run alone, and if he flunks out of the SAS… well, he’s willing to bet that Blunt won’t believe it’s anything other than intentional, and he _needs_ this training.

_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._

It doesn’t matter that it’s not meant to be training him, it’s supposed to be putting pressure on the soldiers to find out who’ll crack under pressure and who’s strong enough and stable enough to make it in the field. What matters is that he’s _here._ That it’s _something._

_Thud. Breathe. Thud. Breathe. Thud. Breathe._

He’s got his rhythm back, now, and he’s falling back into his silent persona, a specter noticeable only in the fact that the others hate him. They’re convinced he’s the son of some rich politician ( _Ha_ ) who wants his son fast-tracked in the military. He ignores the irony.

Alex hasn’t fallen behind much since he entered this hell, and he won’t let himself do it now, either. He doesn’t care about the nightmares or his inability to keep anything down, or the constant fear that someone will go after Jack while he’s hundreds of miles away without so much as a phone to call her with.

Wolf doesn’t wait for him to catch up, just turns to leave as soon as he’s on his feet and moving again. That’s been the pattern lately, hasn’t it? He doesn’t get to breathe, doesn’t get to pause, just has to keep going. If he stops, they’ll prod him forward and glare at him ‘til he moves, but they won’t give him any sort of help beyond the minimum they can’t get away without. If they could, he wouldn’t even get that much.

That’s alright, though. Alex has always been good at bulling his way forward through others’ animosity when he has to. It’s one of his major character traits, right along with hating bullies and those who take advantage of the people who can’t do anything about it.

Alex would muse a bit on how ruddy awful his life is, if he thought it’d do him any good. As it is, he forces himself to note the animal tracks on the trail and listen to the birds in the trees. He waves idly at a camera placed along the trail as he runs along- it’ll irritate whoever’s watching him to see that he’s not broken yet.

They’ve been trying awfully hard.

A corner of his mouth quirks up, unbidden.

It won’t work.

He’s been through worse than a couple weeks in a camp full of people who want nothing more than for him to disappear; he can weather this. He might not weather it without losing his temper, but he’s sure as hell not quitting.

He holds his head high for the rest of the run.

_Nay, let them only see us, while_

“We’ve got to make it to the camp before sundown.”

Cub doesn’t say anything. Wolf hasn’t wanted him to say anything on any of the exercises so far, and almost certainly doesn’t now. He’ll let them take charge, see if they can actually make any progress on the hike, before he does anything.

He smirks to himself, careful to make sure the older men don’t see.

“What’re you laughing about, Double-O Nothing? Think you can do this?”

Damn. Not careful enough, obviously.

Cub lowers his eyes, shrugs mutely. He doesn’t particularly need these guys to make his life even worse than it already is. He pauses for a moment, considering. Would proving he’s competent actually violate his orders? He’d been told not to let them know who he is, or why he’s here, or who sent him, but he doesn’t think Blunt ever actually said anything about competency.

Besides, he’s here to become competent. Nominally. Really, it probably has something to do with the fact that Alex has a tendency to ignore Blunt’s stupider orders and then bitch about how he hasn’t got any damn training and never wanted to work for MI6 in the first place.

He’s pretty sure Blunt thinks this qualifies as a serious punishment, but again, training is training and Alex will take whatever he can get.

Schooling these assholes on navigating unfamiliar territory with no tools is just a bonus.

(He gets them to the camp with three hours to sundown, but stops them before they reach the camera-sprinkled-perimeter and looks every one of his team mates in the eyes and says seriously, “If I get pulled out early because one of you let slip it was me who got us here early, I’ll come after you and damn the consequences.”

He meets Wolf’s considering gaze with a hard glare and doesn’t let up until the man gives him a slow, thoughtful nod, and then drops to the back and follows the others into camp.)

_We sing, but oh the clay is vile_

“ _Dum da da da dum do do, da, da da da dee dee.”_

Alex sings tunelessly to himself as he scrubs down in the shower, in a rare good mood. He’s covered in muck from the obstacle course and a few times when the various members of K unit had ‘accidentally’ bumped into him. He takes his time, washing his bumps and scrapes carefully so they don’t get infected- that would be a pain to deal with, especially since Blunt’s never given a damn about whether he’s actually in any sort of shape to take on another mission.

Sometimes Alex thinks he intentionally waits for times when Alex is injured or something important is about to happen, just to prove how much influence he has.

“Cub? What the hell are you doing in here?” Snake is apparently too tired to bother with any particular level of animosity, and Alex isn’t entirely sure how he feels about that, at the moment. On the one hand, he’s in the shower and vulnerable to any number of attacks; on the other, Snake might bother pretending to care. He’s not sure which idea makes him more uncomfortable.

“Showering,” he says coolly. It’s not as though it’s K unit’s fault he had to spend an extra hour going over the course- oh wait, _yes it is._ He proceeds to rinse off the last of the filth and examine the nasty scrape on his shoulder- it’s healing nicely already and not serious enough to give him pause in any of his daily activities, and he’s glad for it. He would hate to give the soldiers even more reason to harass him than he already has just by being young and alive and _here._

It’s nice to know, he’ll admit, how to act when he’s supposed to be part of a ‘team’ that doesn’t want him. This will give him wonderful practice to add to the real-life experience he already has. If there’s just a _tinge_ of bitterness in that thought, well, it’s only to be expected.

He shoves down the part of him that wants to spit _‘And why would you care? It’s not like you’ve ever even bothered to speak to me before,’_ and instead hurries to finish his shower. (Sometimes he just wishes he had an ally, one _single_ soul on this forsaken planet that cares about what happens to him and can maybe do something about it). He doesn’t need to think on that right now.

He doesn’t notice the odd look Snake throws his way.

_We wear the mask!_

Alex forces himself not to react to the hands that are yanking him up, shoving a bag over his head and binding his hands behind his back. He can’t lose control right now- this is an SAS camp and he’s not actually being kidnapped.

He’d heard about RTI earlier in the week, when the older soldiers had been talking about it in the mess, wondering exactly what he’d do, and it’s a damn good thing he had- if this had been unexpected, he’s sure at least two soldiers would be dead right now.

Instead he goes along with it, allows them to shove him down into the dirt and laugh at him before hauling him upright again and prodding him forward.

It takes forever for them to finish taking him wherever it is RTI is traditionally held. They cut the plastic ties around his wrists and shove him forward without bothering to remove the bag on his head. The concrete beneath his feet is even but he stumbles anyway, too tired to think straight, and startles when a broad pair of hands steadies him.

“Easy, Cub.”

That gives Alex pause, as he pulls the bag off his head to stare warily at K unit. They’re all looking at him with something akin to pity in their gazes and it makes him uncomfortable. He can’t imagine why they would bother pretending to care _now_ , of all times. They’ve warmed up to him a little, over the weeks, but still.

He glances around the cell- it’s big enough to hold all four men plus him even if it is a bit cramped- and frowns. He’d take the corner, but the two good ones already have Wolf and Fox, respectively. Eagle is sitting near Wolf and jittering his leg while Snake is busy examining the door.

After a moment Alex shrugs, sits down with his back against the wall farthest from the door, and closes his eyes. His breathing evens out soon, though he’s still awake- he’s just meditating, even if the others can’t tell.

“Did he just-?” Wolf growls disbelievingly, but Snake cuts him off.

“Let him get what sleep he can. Even if he’s here for training, RTI isn’t the sort of thing a kid should have to deal with.”

That nearly makes Alex smile. He doesn’t.

“He shouldn’t be _sleeping_ ,” Wolf growls. “This is _serious_.”

“I’m actually with Snake on this one,” Eagle says after a minute, his voice troubled. “This is going to be his last chance at some real rest for a while. The rest of us, we’re _trained_ for this, but he’s- y’know.”

“This is bullshit,” Snake says quietly. His voice is full of disgust.

That’s the last thing anyone says for a while.

Alex continues to doze, his muscles slowly beginning to cramp against the cold concrete at his back, until the door slams open to reveal a tall, broad man dressed all in black with a mask on over his face. The man’s gaze sweeps over K unit and settles on Alex, a nasty glint entering his eyes.

“Big, strong army men need a little kid to protect them, huh?” He asks, the sneer audible. “Well let’s see just how well the kid can protect his friends. Let’s go, short-stack.”

Alex opens one eye and turns his head slightly to look at Wolf. “I think he’s talking to you,” he says. K unit blinks at him in surprise, though a hint of a smile shows on Snake’s and Eagle’s faces.

“Up, brat!” The man barks, and Alex rolls his eyes and shoves himself to his feet.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, the perfect image of a teenager who’s been told he has to do his chores. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

The man’s eyes blaze and if he wouldn’t have had time to dodge the blow if he wanted to, can only turn his head to lessen the impact and stumble as the man grabs his arm and twists until Alex hisses in pain.

“You might want to rethink that mouth of yours, boy,” The man breathes quietly into his ear, “Or I might not be so _gentle_ next time.”

He wrenches Alex’s arm at the word ‘gentle,’ hard enough to make him bite his tongue to keep from swearing. The last thing he sees of K unit are their grim faces as he’s dragged away.

His captors don’t send him back to K unit for hours. Instead they hit him and demand answers, slap him and force him to strip, humiliate him. They give him little chance to rest, slapping him hard when he begins to doze and boxing his ears every time he gives them lip.

He gives them a great deal of lip, but nothing else. The thought of what Blunt would do to Jack if he broke, ~~even~~ especially in a simulation, is more than enough incentive to keep his mouth shut.

It’s a measure of how exhausted he is that when he’s finally shoved back into the cell with K unit (they have all acquired new bruises in his absence, and Wolf and Eagle both have split lips) he doesn’t say anything when they try to mother him. His mind is fuzzy from the last two weeks of exhaustion, and even the adrenaline from captivity isn’t enough to really wake him up.

He ignores Snake’s insistence that he examine Alex and instead lays down and passes out against the wall. He’s not so far gone that he doesn’t instinctively lash out when Snake tries to examine him anyway.

This time, unlike when they’d first been brought in, Alex doesn’t keep enough of his awareness to listen to the conversation around him- he’s dead to the world the moment he curls up on the ground. When he wakes up, it’s to the quiet, concerned murmurs of K unit.

“They worked the kid harder than they did any of us,” Snake is saying quietly.

“Of course they did,” Wolf snorts. “He’s the youngest; he’ll be the easiest to break.”

“He’s not even an official member of the unit, though,” Eagle says quietly. “He’s not even SAS at _all._ ”

“I wonder what he _is_.” Fox’s voice is quiet, thoughtful, and the others all pause, their clothes rustling as they turn to look at Fox, then back at Alex.

“Someone’s kid on the fast-track,” Wolf says dismissively. He’s not constantly hazing Alex anymore, but he still clearly doesn’t feel the need to play nice.

“You still think so?”

“What else would he be?”

There’s a moment of prolonged silence as K unit considers this, until Eagle speaks hesitantly. “He’s got some serious nightmares for a politician’s kid.”

“Could’ve been kidnapped,” Wolf says, somewhat doubtfully.

“He keeps up with _us_ ,” Fox points out.

“Wicked skills for a kid,” Snake agrees.

The unit falls silent again.

“Fuck,” Wolf says.

Nobody says anything for a long time, after that.

Alex falls back asleep.

_We smile, but O great Christ our cries_

The next time he wakes, he’s able to take in his surroundings instead of just try not to kill the bastards taking him hostage. Now he can try to figure out what to do.

“Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake.”

Wolf’s comment draws the attention of the rest of the unit. Alex smirks.

“Wrong genre, Wolf. I’m pretty sure we don’t have a Prince Charming coming to our rescue. Besides, I really feel like I’m more like I’m in a Harry Potter phase of life.” Alex pushes himself up and leans back against the wall with a wince. The others share guilty looks, but he ignores that. He brought the beatings on himself by being a smartass. And asking for training and not taking _no_ for an answer. “So, what the hell is going on?”

“RTI,” Wolf grunts.

“Which is…?”

Alex lifts an eyebrow at the soldier, who sighs like he’s talking to a kid. Which, to be fair, he is. Even if Alex is only asking to annoy him.

“Resistance to Interrogation. It gives us an idea of what captivity is like, how to react to it.”

Alex stares at him for a long moment, then eyes the cell around them. It’s small enough that K-unit has to sit close together, but not so tight they need to scrunch up to fit. His skin is turning black and blue from the beatings he’d gotten yesterday, but nothing is broken and he doesn’t have more than a couple of scratches. None of them are too bad. K-unit’s faces are deadly serious; they’re clearly worried about how he’s going to take this- he takes a deep breath to control his temper.

“O _kay_ ,” he says, crossing his arms, “Then why am _I_ here?”

“In case you ever get captured, you’ll need to know how to make it through,” Fox says, but Alex scowls. It’s not something these guys are going to understand, but he’s pissed off. It’s probably just Blunt making another power show.

“Well yeah, for you guys- I can get that, you’re SAS. They need to know you can keep your mouths shut. It’s not something they need to test _me_ for! Nobody tells _me_ anything at all. Besides-” Alex cuts himself off with a sharp _click_ of his teeth.

“Look,” Snake cuts in, “It’ll only be a few days. Then we’re out.”

“Huh?” Alex pauses. What is Snake talking about? “You mean we’re not supposed to escape?”

That’s- a little disturbing, actually. They train their soldiers not to try to escape?

Snake shakes his head. “That’s not the point of the exercise. I mean, if you can, sure. But the main point of this whole thing is to make sure you can take being in captivity.”

Alex stares critically at Snake for a long moment. “So what you’re saying is, we stay here for a week or so and they try to break us without doing any actual damage?”

Snake grimaces. “It only lasts a few days, but yeah, pretty much. I know it’s pretty rough, but-“

“Are you kidding?” Alex cuts him off and laughs, grinning and stretching his arms above his head. “This is _awesome_. Can I join the SAS? I want to join the SAS.”

He gets blank, carefully non-reactive faces from every single one of his unit-mates. Uh, he maybe shouldn’t have said that. Whoops.

“What? We don’t have to do PT or the obstacle course, we get meals and shelter, and we don’t even have to put up with actual torture!”

That… didn’t help their reactions.

“Dou- Uh, Cub, is there something you should tell us about?” Snake asks carefully.

Alex looks at him blankly. “No?”

“It’s just-“

“Dude. Your standards for ‘shelter’ are lower than mine are for food,” Eagle cuts in. He looks to Wolf for support, but he’s scowling furiously.

“This is serious, real training, brat. Why the hell can’t you grow up and treat it like it’s something other than a joke?”

Alex’s good humor fades. Maybe his initial assessment of the situation was a little lenient, but- he’s still in a cell with at least one guy who knows basic first-aid, and he’s not in actual captivity. This is nothing like captivity.

“Uh, because it _is_ a joke?” He suggests, smiling mockingly. He waves an arm around him. “You guys have actual _training_ \- _years_ ’ worth of it, actually. None of us are injured, we’ve got a medic on-hand, and these guys are trying _not_ to hurt us too bad. That means they’re limited in what they can do to us. It means no psychos experimenting on us, they aren’t going after the people we love, and they aren’t going to mutilate anyone. Worst case scenario? We get a broken bone or two but leave with limbs and organs intact even if someone gets binned.

“So you know what, Wolf? Yeah, this _is_ a joke to me. I’ve been told that I’m a captive in a room where all I have to put up with is a few grunts every day and nobody’s lives are on the line. This is a fucking _vacation_ \- if they want to do some actual fucking RTI for me, it’ll have to be _real_.”

Alex shouldn’t have said all of that, but he’s sick of taking their shit and he never wanted to be a spy in the first place. And as far as losing his temper goes, this is a pretty safe group to do it to, in a pretty safe place. He’s probably never going to see any of these guys again, and Blunt won’t be able to blackmail him with them because he doesn’t give two shits, and neither do they.

But, then- they don’t look like the same guys who’ve been mocking him since he got to base. Their faces are varying shades of furious and shocked, like they’ve only just figured out that there’s something seriously fucked up about their situation.

Honestly? It only irritates Alex more.

_In counting all our tears and sighs?_

Time passes slowly in captivity, especially when you’re alone. With K unit, Alex quickly finds that it passes much quicker as the men come up with ridiculous stories to tell each other, making up nonsense to entertain themselves with now that they’ve made their peace with him. None of it is true, of course- they know better than that- but it is something to do all the same.

Even as annoyed as he’d been earlier, it’s hard to ignore them when they’re chuckling and telling jokes, even making something of an effort to include him. It doesn’t make it all okay, but- he’s just so _bored._

Alex joins in once or twice, cracking jokes or poking fun at the others after they’ve finally started treating him like a real person. It’s twisted, he thinks, that they’ve only started treating him like a human after they’ve all been ‘captured’ and put through this. After they’ve figured out that he doesn’t actually want to be in the SAS (well, up until he found out about the actual training and the backup, anyway). That when all is said and done, there is something very, very fucked up about Alex’s situation.

Some of their captors’ favorite methods of trying to break them are tying Alex to a chair and gagging him (he spent the first several rounds mouthing off and rating their techniques- it wouldn’t be Alex if he didn’t sass the people with the power to hurt him), then making the others watch as he is beaten. It’s surprisingly effective, but even as K-unit looks at him with dark eyes and demand their captors stop, none of them break.

Alex never breaks, either. He tells them his code name, the rank and security number he’s been granted while he’s a temporary ‘member’ of the SAS, but nothing beyond that. (Disregarding the asinine comments he makes whenever they leave the gag out, of course.) If they’d had any doubts left after his outburst, this would have convinced them that he’s not just some politician’s kid.

Eventually, though, Alex decides he’s had enough. He’s tired and cramped and dirty, and he _really_ wants to get a little bit of payback. He’s sat through the course like the good toy soldier he’s supposed to be, but he’s only done it because that’s the point of the exercise and K-unit probably needs to know their limits.

Isn’t he just the _best?_

Either way, the day before RTI is scheduled to end, Alex pulls a slim piece of metal from his pocket, where he’s been keeping it since he snatched it on like day two.

“Really?” Snake asks, sighing when he sees it.

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Alex says, working on picking the lock. It’s a little awkward, since the lock is on the outside of the cell and he’s got shortish arms. “I sat through the lesson, now I want a shower.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Eagle shrugs. “Count me in.”

“…Yeah, alright,” Snake mutters. “Got a plan?”

Alex snorts. “Don’t get caught? Plans like me about as much as cats like bubble baths. You coming, Fox? Wolf?”

They nod their assent and he grins. Another moment or two and the locks are open and Alex is rising to his feet, motioning for Eagle to give him a boost up to the air vent. Before he crawls inside, he grins at them.

“Make sure you put the vent back on and lock the door on the way out.”

(They leave the guards tied up with rude pictures drawn on their faces. None of them look happy.)

_With torn and bleeding hearts we smile_

“This is a prisoner exchange. Mission objective is to recover our soldier- we give them their soldier and ours comes home alive.”

That is how the briefing went, and later Wolf will be even more glad that he is a part of the SAS rather than MI6 than he already is. He has to wonder what the higher ups were thinking when they sent a lone soldier into such a volatile region. Of course, he will eventually realize exactly what they were thinking- it had been a suicide mission from the start, just like all the others.

The agent’s mission, not theirs. He feels like that needs clarification. The SAS cares more about their people than MI6 does. That is ultimately what keeps this particular soldier alive, as it will turn out.

None of that matters at the moment though, because the soldier Wolf is recovering is painfully thin; he can see the way the clothes he’s been given hang even from his position by the Jeep. Wolf hopes that this is the right person, but he’s not actually in charge of this mission- he’s here in a support role only, because the captive had apparently mentioned him as a CO at some point.

The higher ups thought it would be wise to have someone to verify it’s the right man.

“Poor kid,” The soldier beside him mutters, his entire body stiff with worry. “Should never have been here at all.”

Bear was one of the soldiers who’d seen the captive’s file.

“Yeah?” Wolf asks.

“Whoever let someone that young into the SAS should be binned,” Bear says grimly.

Wolf shoots him a look, but Bear doesn’t say anything else.

The swap goes smoothly and soon enough the captive soldier is on his way to the jeep, nearly all his weight hanging from the soldier at his side- the captive’s leg is clearly badly injured, though he does his best to stumble along.

When he is finally close enough, the medic jumps out and gently helps the soldier into the jeep- he groans loudly as he jars his bad leg getting in, and breathes tightly through clenched teeth for the first ten minutes of the drive.

When the young man finally opens his eyes, he looks at the other members of the van warily, examining all their faces carefully. He nearly passes over Wolf, then does a double-take.

“Huh,” the young man says. “Been a while, Wolf.”

He nods stiffly, unsure what to say. He doesn’t recognize the soldier- he seems altogether too young to even _be_ a soldier, as Bear had mentioned earlier.

“Ironic.” The soldier says, after another minute. “I’ve got you to thank for the fact that I’m alive at all.”

“How’s that?” Wolf asks.

The boy cracks open an eye and grins at him lopsidedly. “You’re the one who gave me the idea for all the bull I fed those bastards. What kind of politician would actually put his underage son in the SAS? That’s just bad PR.”

Wolf wants to swear.

He does.

“Recognize me now?” The boy asks. Wolf isn’t surprised he didn’t figure it out at first- Cub’s blond hair is dark with filth, and his skin has darkened noticeably from his time in Brecon Beacons. He is also taller, though not wider as a side effect of his captivity. His shoulders have broadened a bit, though.

“Glad to see you alive,” Wolf grunts.

Cub grins at him, with too many teeth. “Glad to be alive. I’m thinking of retiring.”

Wolf nods. “Probably a good idea.”

It’s about time the kid got out of whatever it was he’s been doing. Cub clearly hasn’t been risking his life out of a sense of duty or honor or what-have-you; he as good as told them he’d been kidnapped back at Brecons, two and a half years ago. Wolf wonders if he’ll be able to help the kid at all.

Cub raises an eyebrow and glances at the others. Wolf nods- they won’t talk.

“I’m thinking I’ll be labeled KIA, after this mission.” Cub says casually. “I don’t particularly want to do another.”

“Anywhere in particular you’re thinking of going?” Wolf asks. “Doesn’t sound like they’re going to want to let you go, if I’ve got the right idea.”

“They’ll be _livid_ when they figure it out,” Cub agrees cheerfully. “I’m hoping the SAS’ll be willing to help me pull it off. It won’t be hard, just… don’t mention I got rescued, hmm?”

“That’s a decision for the higher ups, Cub,” Wolf tells him. He won’t lie to the kid, certainly not about this. “But I don’t think they’d object to putting a child in witness protection.”

“I’m not a kid,” Cub says, closing his eyes and leaning against the headrest. There’s no heat behind it; it’s just a statement of fact.

Wolf shakes his head and snorts in amusement. “You finally reach the age of majority, then? Besides, you need someone to watch your back anyway.”

Cub peers at Wolf from the corner of his eyes. He knows what Wolf is saying. “That an offer?”

“Always wondered what it’d be like to have a cousin or something,” Wolf says. This is something he’s thought about on too many nights, the _what if_ s running through his head as he wonders what had happened to Cub. Whether he would put in the effort to fix his mistakes, if he ever got the opportunity. As it turns out, he’s more than willing to risk his career, but judging by the others’ faces it won’t be necessary. It wouldn’t be necessary even if the guys in the jeep didn’t give a rat’s arse about this- he remembers Sarge’s face that one time he’d had to give them the news that Cub had been shot again (and hell, there was an _again_ to mention).

Cub’s smile doesn’t leave his face for the rest of the ride, not even when the jeep jostles his wounds hard enough to make him cry tears of pain (If anyone ever suggests the tears were something else, well why would Cub lie about something like that? Every soldier knows it’s okay to cry).

_But let the world dream otherwise_

_._

_Alex Rider_

_Feb 13, 1996- August 9, 2014_

_Gone before his time._

_._

“What can you tell us about Alex Rider, Jenny?”

“Well, Jeff, it’s been two months since Alex was reported missing by his guardian, Jack Starbright, and we have just been informed that he did not make it home. Alex’s body was found after a car crash in Barnstaple yesterday afternoon. Officials say his car was hit by a drunk driver and he was killed instantly.

“That’s tragic, Jenny. Our hearts go out to the friends and family of Alex Rider. In the stock market today,-“

_To thee from tortured souls arise_

“It’s not true, right?” Tom asks. Jack doesn’t meet his gaze; her eyes are red and puffy from crying. “Alex isn’t dead. He _can’t_ be dead.”

Jack just shakes her head and trembles.

Tom shakes his head. It’s not true. It _can’t_ be. None of it. Alex is supposed to come home and gripe about his latest mission and the insane stunts he has to pull off to get out intact. Alex is supposed to laugh and play football with him, and push him to go on dates while refusing to entertain romantic thoughts of his own.

Alex is supposed to be _alive._

_It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes_

Blunt smiles thinly.

It took long enough.

Mrs. Jones purses her lips tightly behind him. No matter; she was never objective when it came to the boy, anyway.

_We wear the mask._

_We Wear the Mask_

_BY_ [ _PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR_ ](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/paul-laurence-dunbar)

_We wear the mask that grins and lies,_

_It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—_

_This debt we pay to human guile;_

_With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,_

_And mouth with myriad subtleties._

_Why should the world be over-wise,_

_In counting all our tears and sighs?_

_Nay, let them only see us, while_

_We wear the mask._

_We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries_

_To thee from tortured souls arise._

_We sing, but oh the clay is vile_

_Beneath our feet, and long the mile;_

_But let the world dream otherwise,_

_We wear the mask!_

**Author's Note:**

> R&R, Friends!


End file.
